Checkerboard
by Evawn
Summary: And she had him. She had piqued his interest with her random remark about the past. It wasn't the first time she'd done this to him and he'd be damned if it would be the last. He liked these games with her. Previously a one-shot. Bethyl R/R
1. Prologue

I do not claim to own anything having to do with TWD.

Checkerboard

"You know…I once shot a gun in the air because Maggie and Glenn were wrestlin' with Merle."

The dark-haired man scoffed and cut his hardened eyes over to the blonde woman.

She was smirking up at him from her position on the old, red and white checkerboard patterned blanket that she had laid out for them. She was lying on her stomach, her face resting atop her slim hands. Her sleepy blue eyes were sparkling with mirth.

He had just gotten back from tending to the perimeter of their trailer park, where they'd been for the last year, to find that Beth had laid out the blanket. He had wanted to join her but he had no intention of acting on his desire until she beckoned him over.

So there they were.

"I ain't jokin'."

"That right?"

"Mmhmm,"was Beth's only response.

Daryl stared at the woman as she brought down her arms to rest her head more comfortably upon them. She was still facing him, though she had her eyes now closed.

And she had him. She had piqued his interest with her random remark regarding the past. Their past. It wasn't the first time she'd done this to him and he'd more than likely be damned if it would be the last. He enjoyed these games with her.

"Alright. Go ahead and tell me your story, girl."

Beth smiled at how easily it was to rope him in. While coming off as nonchalant and uninterested, Daryl was indeed a very curious man. He would not outright ask a question choosing instead to be still, silent, and observing.

"It was before we took in all of those Woodbury people. When you, Rick, and my dad went out to meet that sorry excuse for a man…The Governor. You remember that, right?"

Daryl gave a short nod and looked away at the mention of his family. The missing and the deceased. Of course he remembered. It was also the two days before he had to put down his flesh-and-blood brother's reanimated body.

"Merle wanted us to go out and attack _him _before he got to us, but Rick told us to sit tight and Glenn was just tryin' to follow orders. Merle started packin' up guns and ammo, anyway. I wasn't in the room but I could hear all the fuss. He was worried about you, Daryl. That's why he was trying to go."

Daryl had known that his brother gave some sort of damn about him so this wasn't really a surprise but he was sort of astonished that Beth could recognize an emotional response from Merle other than anger and sarcasm.

He glanced toward Beth again because she had stopped speaking to give him a moment to process the bit that she had already told him, as if knowing that a rapid replay of depressing imagery was flipping through his head.

Her head was still resting comfortably on her arms, her wispy blonde hair down and on her shoulders with a small smile on her small lips.

Daryl shook his head and cleared his throat, "So why'd you shoot?"

"Glenn and Merle started at each other. And Maggie jumped in. I was tired of all the fussin' but that's not why I broke 'em up," Beth spoke, opening her eyes, "I wanted Merle to go take care of the problem. I wanted to go with him. To bring ya'll back. To bring _you_ back."

The older man blinked and brought his hand up to his lips. He hardly ever chewed on his thumb around her anymore. He'd pretty much kicked the habit unless he was extremely stressed or anxious. Times now were still worrisome but they lived a calmer life.

"Why didn't you?" Daryl questioned after a few beats.

"Because I knew you'd be back. I told you, ain't nothin' goin' to stop Daryl Dixon. Last man standin' and all that," Beth said, her voice soft, filled with a truth that only she could know.

Daryl shook his head. He hated when she spoke like that. He never could make it as the last man. He never wanted to. Especially not after getting to know her over the last year and a half that they'd only had each other.

They had been residing in a fenced in trailer park in "Somewhere", Georgia for a little over a year. They had made their home in a dingy old RV that Daryl had repaired. They could easily make their home mobile in the event that they would need to.

It had been Daryl's intent for them to get the hell out of Georgia, try to make their way towards the mountains of North Carolina. He had wanted to get them away from all of the reminders but she had put her foot down. Either he'd stay with her in Georgia while she waited and searched for any sign of their family, or he could go on without her. He was sure that they were just one run short of going to the prison to see what could remain there.

And she had him there, too. She knew that he wouldn't ever leave her, so they'd survived in Georgia for all that time waiting for a sign that someone, anyone, had made it out of the prison alive. _They_ did, after all.

Daryl brought his hand down to rest on his knee that he had drawn up close to his chest.

"Did they stop fightin'? When you shot that gun?"

"Sure did. You don't mess with a farmer's daughter, right?"

Daryl's scoff was humor-filled and he grinned at Beth's light chuckles that followed his response. He looked over at her again when she had quieted down.

She had lifted herself up to sit cross-legged beside him. There was a pensive look about her pale face and her brows were turned up in a frown.

"Yeah?" Daryl asked, almost concerned. Beth looked at him calculatingly, her blue eyes stern, all traces of mirth gone. It caused Daryl to look away and around the abandoned trailer park. He had no idea what could be going on through that little blonde head of hers when she knew the goings-on of his mind almost better than he did himself.

"I told you that story 'cause I need you to know that I'm serious, Mr. Dixon. I have always looked in your direction… even when there were others around. I don't need you thinkin' that as soon as I _can_ I'm goin' to up and leave you. I don't want you doubtin' my reasons for caring about you," Beth had let her voice drop down into a whisper at her confession. Daryl's eyes had immediately darted over to her face at those words and her own piercing eyes only served to heighten the intensity of her statement.

Daryl regarded her with his ever-present stare, his gaze narrow and his heart thumping a mile a minute. She was still looking at him as if she was challenging him to discount all that she had just said. He wouldn't do that, though.

She would just argue with him until he conceded anyway. Besides, the look in her bright blues told him that she was serious, that she truly did care.

And so, the dark-haired man found himself sliding his hand across that old, red and white checkerboard patterned blanket to meet hers.

* * *

Author's Note:

*PREVIOUSLY, a one-shot. I'm not sure how many chapters I'm going for but I will be adding on. I've updated this chapter with more details to a point that I'm much happier with it.

I have been reading A LOT of Bethyl fics and I've been wanting to write one myself but…I'm not even finished with my other fics yet so I've been holding out. But, I was watching an episode of TWD today and in that particular episode, Beth took initiative over a situation that was getting out of hand (as described in the fic).

In review of other episodes featuring her character, while she's in the background, I still find that she has a strong presence so I wanted to highlight that. I'm sick of the fics where she's some invalid who has to be taught every single thing. She's a smart girl so I'm sure she learned a few things despite being Judith's caretaker. Of course she doesn't know how to hunt or use a crossbow but I feel that her personal strengths are just as strong as Maggie's.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The storage units were cold and stank of mold. The weary rain-drenched travelers could see why. Overhead there was a patch of ceiling missing and rain was pouring through. Seemed like it had been gone for quite some time prior to their arrival.

"I suppose that this will have to do," the blonde woman murmured into the air before pushing forward, her hand still clenching her knife tightly. The gruff, older man sighed, almost inaudibly, before following the seemingly impulsive girl as she inspected their rest stop for the night. His crossbow was hitched over his back while he clutched his own knife.

Of course, the storage facility had already been picked through. This much was evident in the raised doors and scattered boxes that littered the corridor. Luckily, despite the rain, the sun had yet to go down, so they had a decent amount of visibility by way of the hole in the ceiling.

Daryl watched as Beth reached her knife hand out towards the concrete wall. She scraped the wall, hoping to draw out any walkers as she trekked, her head moving in both directions as they passed the open doors.

The dark-haired man was impressed at how confidently high the girl still held her shoulders in spite of the hell that they had just narrowly escaped. That _she_ had just narrowly escaped.

"There's nothing here," Beth breathed out once they had reached the end. She slid her knife back into its sheath and looked over at her brooding companion.

Daryl just stared at her, eyes narrow and contemplative. She had yet to display any type of reaction and he knew that the lack of reaction in an otherwise passionately emotional girl was no good.

Beth rolled her eyes at him and kneeled down to one of the boxes near her feet.

"Sheets…and they still smell like fabric softener!"

Beth gathered the old sheets near her face and inhaled deeply, not caring that they were covered in dust. They'd keep them warm for the night and possibly others. The weather was turning, that much was obvious.

"Beth?"

The woman looked up, finding Daryl's eyes instantly. He was still regarding her with that same analyzing stare.

"You good?" Daryl questioned.

"Yeah," she muttered softly, dropping her gaze. They were both silent, the storm filling in the emptiness of the air, when their voices didn't.

"Let's see about findin' some clothes to change into. Can't afford to get a cold," Daryl suggested slowly, finally putting his knife away.

Beth set the sheets back down into the box and stood up. She was trembling partly from the cold rain. She did not want Daryl to notice, but he was as perceptive as ever. She was sure that he would peg her trembling as shock from their earlier escape.

After about ten minutes, Beth had managed to find a forgotten long sleeved flannel shirt that was three sizes too big and a pair of snug cargo pants to change into. She was padding around the cold facility on bare feet hoping that her boots would be dry enough by morning. She refused to leave those behind.

After changing into a similar flannel and neatly tailored jeans, Daryl had decided that he would bunk down at the end of the corridor, where she had found the sheets, to avoid the water that was dropping in from the ceiling.

She had her choice of units to choose from.

Daryl was using a pile of random clothing as a pillow. When Beth had held out a sheet for him to use, he had refused, telling her to go make a pallet and to get some rest in that gruff way of his.

It was as if their time in the funeral home hadn't even happened.

Beth stood staring at her thin palette knowing that it wouldn't provide the comfort that she needed after such a difficult ordeal. She sat down on the pile of sheets still trembling.

"I knew that you were lyin'," Beth heard from outside the unit that she was in. She flinched as Daryl's tall form took over the doorway in a flash.

"Yeah, well, I'll be fine," Beth responded curtly, defensive.

"Umhmm."

Daryl made a few steps into the unit before leaning against the wall opposite Beth, his arms crossed derisively. He was staring down his nose at her, intentionally making her feel all the more awkward.

He almost needed her to break down, to need him.

"Nothin' happened," Beth spoke. She was rubbing her arms to calm her shivering, but Daryl knew that no amount of heat would distract her body from the oncoming shock she'd be experiencing now that her adrenaline levels were going down.

"Somethin' almost did. If I hadn't gotten there, they would've—."

"Don't you think I know that?!" Beth exclaimed cutting Daryl off. Her teeth were chattering now from the shaking.

"There it goes," Daryl murmured lowering his arms.

"I don't need you remindin' me of it. I'm fine, so you can quit starin' at me like that."

Beth was crying now, and the man could tell that she didn't even realize it. She was focused on trying to make things seem like she was still okay.

"So they didn't do anythin' before I got there?" He had to ask.

"They tried," Beth smirked through her tears. Daryl moved slowly to reach into his back pocket to retrieve his handkerchief, careful to not make any fast moves for her sake.

He walked forward the few necessary steps to the woman and handed her the fragment of cloth. Beth blinked her watery eyes rapidly as she realized why she was being handed the handkerchief.

"You do what you were taught?" Daryl questioned, sitting down beside her. Months ago, this would've been considered too intimate.

"Hell yeah," Beth responded wiping at her eyes, "He was missing an eye when you encountered him right?"

Daryl nodded as he thought back to just a few hours earlier. Beth had been grabbed from the funeral home that they were resting in five days prior. He felt stupid for not realizing how much of a setup that the place was. Food in a cabinet just waiting for starving survivors.

He had run after that black car until he couldn't anymore, choosing then to let his eyes do the work while he tracked the car to a crossroads. He walked down each road, knowing that eventually the gravel would become dirt or pavement. Luckily all of the roads met up with dirt roads making it easy for him to pick up the tracks. He barely slept while he searched.

"I shot him in the other eye when I found the car," Daryl grimaced as he recalled the arrow sticking out of the greasy man's eye socket.

"It's almost poetic," Beth spoke. Her tears were slowing down but her shivering was still evident.

Daryl reached behind them and pulled one of the sheets over her shoulders.

"I'm glad you found me," the blonde woman whispered looking over at him through tear-dewed lashes as he pulled the sheet to a close around her neck.

"Told you I wouldn't leave you, girl. Maggie would kick my ass."

Beth grinned at the mental image conjured from his words. Her grin widened at his belief that they might find her sister.

The woman found herself yawning seconds later, the exhaustion catching up.

"This winter's gonna suck," she spoke sleepily, wrapping the sheet tighter around herself.

"Here," Daryl muttered pulling another sheet around both of their shoulders, his left arm encircling her small frame, awkwardly. He did this for warmth.

Beth's shivering slowed to a slight tremble at his touch. His warmth.

"Thanks."

"Umhmm."

Within a few short minutes, Beth was asleep and Daryl was still.

He was listening to her soft breathing and light snores that he had inadvertently familiarized himself with over the past few months.

He needed sleep. He was running off of a few hours and lying down earlier had made him realize just how exhausted and run down his body was.

The man sighed before slowly pushing Beth down on to her palette. She kept sleeping and he was envious. Daryl covered her in both of the sheets, making sure to tuck her in well, before standing up to move back to the pile of clothing that acted as a pillow.

He did well to resist the urge to lay down right beside the sleeping girl. He wondered, not for the first time, if he would ever be able to act on that particular urge.

"Maggie's definitely goin' to kick my ass," he mumbled as he threw himself down and covered his eyes with his arm.

* * *

Note:

With this chapter I hoped to establish a timeline for you guys. Let me know what you think, yeah?


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

His face was softer when he slept betraying no evidence that he had endured any type of hardships in his lifetime.

Beth was wide awake and staring at Daryl as he slept.

She sat huddled in her sheets a couple of feet from where he lay. The storm hadn't let up. Though she was pretty sure that it was just after dawn, the sky was still dark with rain.

They'd probably be staying in the storage unit until the inclement weather let up. It would be best as her boots were still damp from the day before.

Beth ran her eyes over the man's lithe yet muscular form counting, absentmindedly, the slow breaths that he made. He was still wearing his own boots.

Sighing, the young woman crawled forward as quietly as possible and reached her small hands toward Daryl's right boot. No sooner than her hand touched the ankle of his footwear did she find her neck in front of a blade.

"Shit," Daryl spoke softly from behind his knife. He lowered his hand, his widened eyes locked onto Beth's own shocked ones.

Her hands were gripping the ankle of his worn boot tightly.

"You shouldn't be wearing these," Beth nodded towards his boots as if he hadn't just held a knife to her throat.

Daryl stared at her blankly, his mind still slightly foggy with sleep.

"Trench foot, Daryl. You can't be a very good woodsman if you don't know about trench foot!"

At her indignant exclamation, Beth worked to pull the man's boots off while he stared that even stare of his.

His socks were wet, but they weren't covered in muck as their other garments had been.

"I ain't touchin' your socks," Beth grumbled. She pulled her sheets, which had fallen slightly behind her, over her shoulders.

"So if we need to run-?" Daryl began slowly, finally finding his mind.

Beth interrupted him with a smile-laced statement, "We run barefoot. Just gotta watch for ankle biters."

The older man furrowed his brow while sighing and Beth's small smile widened when he begrudgingly reached down to his feet to remove the wet socks.

"Next time I'm sleepin', don't wake me up with somethin' stupid like that," he spoke gruffly, narrow eyes brushing over hers.

Beth watched as he stood up, grabbed his crossbow, and started to walk, barefoot, toward the facility's main door before she hurriedly got up to follow.

"Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed…" the woman grumbled. She nearly hurtled right into his back at his abrupt stop in front of the door.

"Can I pee in peace?"

Daryl gripped the handle of the door and pushed through slowly while Beth hung back, her face pink, at the realization that she had been following him so closely. She could not decipher, for the life of her, why she had been following him in the first place. She turned on her heel with her nose tucked into her sheets and moved to his makeshift palette of clothing.

It was still warm.

Left alone, Beth could hear every little sound, even the wind as it whistled past the concrete building. The torrential downpour from the storm had slowed to such a small pitter-patter of noise that she found herself drifting away.

"Hey Beth…Beth?" Daryl called out as he crept back into the building. His clothing was only slightly damp from the waning storm.

He walked to the pile of the clothing, a corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk. The girl was out.

She was trembling again.

Sighing, as he often did in her presence, the man sat down near her sleeping form and leaned against the wall.

"Beth," he tried again. This time she stirred and opened her eyes.

"Looks like it's lettin' up outside so I'll go huntin' in a bit."

"What're we doing, Daryl?" Beth blinked sleepily, sadness in her otherwise bright voice.

"What you mean?"

"This isn't livin', what we're doin'."

Daryl narrowed his eyes in contemplation. He hadn't heard her speak like this since before the moonshine shack.

"We're just movin' day to day. Not searchin' for anyone. Just…survivin' and I don't know how much more of this that I can take," Beth continued, "When those douchebags took me, I was excited. How stupid does that make me? I was excited because for once it wasn't killin' walkers and runnin' from herds."

"We supposed to just sit back and cop out?" Daryl responded, eyebrow raised. She should have known by now how he felt about that sort of thing.

Beth's eyes went down to the fabric wrapped around her wrist. The same wrist that had become responsible for her need to live.

"That's not what I'm sayin' at all," she spoke softly, "Remember when we were talkin', in the funeral home about stayin' there?"

The air grew heavy then, and Daryl coughed while averting his gaze. He knew that she'd bring it up eventually, what they had briefly discussed before she had gotten kidnapped, because it was just in her nature to not hold back. He just hadn't realized that it'd be this soon.

"It was a great idea, wasn't it," the bowman said sarcastically, his face set in a frown.

"Yes!" Beth exclaimed, "It was. We'd of had a place to_ live_. We don't know what happened to everyone else but it's my firm belief that they all made it. Just knowin' that… it's okay with me. At least we'd definitely have one another. And we could live in peace…or at least somethin' close to it."

Daryl brought his eyes back to her face, searching for anything that might be amiss. She was fine. Sadness was etched in nearly every furrow of her brow with optimism laced throughout, but she seemed to be doing alright. What would it take to make her more than alright? What would it take to make her happy?

Three weeks later the couple found themselves in front of a run-down trailer park in the boonies that looked like it had been deserted since before the turn.

Standing outside an old rusty fence, they stared across the trailer yard taking it all in. There looked to be at least six trailers that were still standing while the others had collapsed over time into heaps of metal and paneling. Overgrown weeds had taken over making it look like an old junkyard.

"Perfect," Daryl whispered to himself before trudging forward with his crossbow extended. Beth followed behind him, her hand resting on the hilt of her knife.

Ever since they had left the storage facility, Daryl had barely said ten words to her. At first she had assumed that he'd reverted back to how he was when they had first escaped the prison massacre. That train of thought soon dissipated when she became aware of him staring at her often with a frown of contemplation set across his face. He had been studying her and she was afraid to know why.

Was he considering on leaving her, when he had told her he wouldn't? Even when he had closed off his emotions from her after the prison, he stuck by her and she had no fear that he would leave.

Not since her kidnapping did that thought take root within her mind. She was stuck with those bastards for five days. Five days she had to worry about being raped, killed or even eaten. She wasn't a fool. Food was hard to come by and non-transitioned humans were most probably a delicacy during these times.

But he _had_ come for her in the end.

"Greene?" Daryl called breaking the woman out of her reverie. He was standing in front of an old RV surrounded in overgrowth. It was much like the one that had been lost with the farm so long ago.

"Yeah?" she responded making her way to him.

"I done called you about three, four, times. Stop daydreamin' and come here. Take a look inside."

Daryl had thrown his crossbow across his back and he was leaning against the outside of the RV. The door had already been opened. Beth looked at the doorway quizzically as she approached it, unsure of whether or not she had missed Daryl's clearance of it.

"Already cleared it," Daryl spoke up as if reading her mind, "Nothin' in there but a shit ton of dust and grime."

Beth stepped up the small metal stoop and looked around. There was a small kitchenette, a couch that looked like it could be pulled out as a bed, a small bathroom and a bedroom further back.

"I get to sleep in a bed tonight!" Beth exclaimed as she walked around the inside of the RV, happiness and understanding overtaking her confusion.

From outside, Daryl smirked at how happy the girl sounded to not be in the woods for a night. His smirk dropped as he realized that he didn't know how to tell her the news.

Sighing he stepped up into the RV, almost forgetting to duck his head. He came to an abrupt stop and leaned against the door jam immediately mesmerized.

Beth was sifting through dust-covered items in the kitchen area, a small smile on her face at a pile of forgotten food seasonings that she had found.

"I'm thinkin' about goin' on a run tomorrow for some things we need."

Beth slowly turned to face the dark-haired hunter. Her blue eyes grew wide at the grimace on his dirty face. This was it. He had decided to go, just as she had feared. She couldn't remember ever being this anxious before.

"You take the bed tonight. I'll sleep on the couch," Daryl continued, not looking at Beth. He had missed the stricken look on the girl's face.

"What things do we need?" Beth questioned breathily. She was just at the threshold of panicking.

Daryl sighed loudly before throwing himself onto the creaky couch, his swift movements causing Beth to jump.

"Chicken wire, barbed wire, and whatever the hell else we need to make this a decent enough home."

* * *

Author's Note:

Thanks for all of the support!

This chapter was most difficult to write. It is really trying writing Daryl because he's made up of so many different complexities but I did it. I think. This was to show how they came to find their home. The next chapter will be a time jump. Don't worry. I'll still be writing the progression of their relationship (pre-prologue).

Also having nothing to do with this fic other than Daryl, do you guys remember the episode of TWD when the herd is on the highway and T-Dog cuts his arm? Daryl ends up creeping up and saving him. I would consider that one of my most loved Daryl moments. "Oh no, a walker is going to get T-Dog" and then Daryl just pops up like a flower (albeit a dirty, wilted flower but a flower nonetheless).

You can follow me/send me prompts on: eeevawn . tumblr . com

What are your favorite Daryl moments?


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead.

Chapter 3

"How bad did it get you?"

Beth looked up with a start, from her bloody hands, at Daryl who'd seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

She was more startled at the fact that he'd been avoiding talking to her for nearly a month now and all of a sudden, here he was.

"Could be worse. Just not used to it, is all," the woman responded while wiping her hands on the floral apron that she had found in one of the trailers when they'd raided through the remains of the park.

"Mmmhmm," Daryl grumbled while holding out his hand, "Lemme see."

Beth held out her scratched and bleeding palms to be inspected by the hunter's careful eyes. It made her feel a bit self-conscious if she were to be honest with herself. She could feel the rough calluses of his warm hands as he turned her own over and dropped them, completing his inspection.

He turned to the chicken wire patch that Beth had been working on in the fence.

"Go on inside. I'll finish up here. Use some of that antiseptic lotion you found."

"I can't just stop what I'm doin'. I don't expect you to do everythin' for me, Daryl. I'm capable," Beth snapped, her thin blonde brows furrowed in frustration. She didn't know where this animosity came from but she was sick of being treated like some China doll.

Daryl crossed his arms and turned to watch her, his own brow line set in a crease. He studied her, as intently as ever, remembering when she'd first found that stupid apron amongst all of the debris surrounding their home. She'd immediately wrapped the dirty thing around her body, basking in how much it reminded her of her late mother. She had told him so.

He hated the damn thing. Made her look like June Cleaver or some other domesticated Martha Stewart type. Maybe he hated the apron because it was how things were supposed to be. And those types of reminders always made him feel like shit when he thought of her in a less than innocent way. He was a man, after all, and she was most definitely a woman.

"I'm serious. You give me more credit than everyone else ever did, yeah, but you still treat me like I'm goin' to break at any moment. I can hunt and track too. Otis taught me years ago. I'm nowhere near as good as you are but I can do it. I can go on runs. I'm capable," Beth finished.

As she spoke, she had reached into her apron to pull out two strips of cloth, successfully managing to wrap them, one each, around her wounded hands, tightly. She reached towards the chicken wire patch, set on continuing her work but Daryl stopped her pursuit by gripping onto her arm.

"You _capable_ of sleeping on your own, again?"

Beth gasped loudly in response before biting back, "Are you?"

The blonde woman ripped her arm from Daryl's grasp and stormed away towards the RV.

Daryl's hand hung in the air, surprise and embarrassment echoing through his entire being.

Of course, her wariness towards him lately was his fault. He had assumed that finding them a home would make things better. Happier.

All that he had successfully managed to do was create a whole lot of awkward situations...hence the reason why he'd been avoiding her.

He was just trying to keep her safe. That's what her father would've wanted. That's what Maggie would've wanted. Rick.

Daryl stroked his chin in contemplation as he stared across the expanse of the fence that they had been patching up over the last month. He had already started barb-wiring the parts of the fence that were in their blind spots while Beth had been finishing up with the patches.

She had called him out. Lately she'd been able to read his thoughts as they related to his actions to a t. On one of their first nights there, in the RV, he had woken her up from a nightmare that had her whimpering. She had asked him to stay in the tiny bedroom with her for a night, and so he did. One night became more.

He slept on the floor out of respect but for her to recognize how therapeutic and _necessary_ it was for him to stay in there with her so close by made him nervous. He wasn't aware that his feelings were so obvious, especially to her.

Daryl sighed loudly. When had he become such a little bitch? He chewed on the inside of his cheek before frowning.

Maybe he hated that damn apron because that's how he wanted things to be.

Inside the RV, Beth had made her way to the edge of her bed, arms hugging her body tightly. She hadn't meant for their conversation to become as heated as it had but...there it was.

Making it out of that dank, disgusting cellar that her kidnappers had her in, had made her recognize just how strong of a person she was and no one was going to take that away from her now. Not even Daryl Dixon.

But he probably wasn't trying to do that anyway. Beth groaned, aggravated at herself.

The older man was just trying to be considerate in that gruff demeanor of his and she had made a mountain out of a mole hill.

Beth stood up and walked the short walk to the kitchen. She could see that Daryl was still standing at the fence. Probably brooding.

She watched fascinated by the way that his unruly hair moved at the light touch of the wind. That man had a way about him.

Her hands stung a bit thanks to the cuts from the chicken-wire but she ignored the mild pains as she took off her apron and flung it across their living space making her way towards the door.

"Dixon!" She called out as lightly as possible, not wanting to sneak up on him, if it were even possible.

Daryl turned towards the woman, his hand raised to his crossbow's strap.

"We can't do this, alright? This stupid arguin'; it's not us. All we got is each other until we find the others so we need to be like this," Beth spoke exasperatedly as she twisted the forefinger and middle finger of her right hand together.

"We do, huh?" Daryl asked. He turned back towards the fence, his focus seemingly on the trees surrounding.

Beth dropped her hand to her side dejectedly and made to start moving back toward the RV.

"Alright," she heard him utter softly, "Fine, but you're goin' to need to trust me."

Daryl had turned to look at the girl, one hand resting on one of the fence posts and the other pushing his dark hair out of his eyes. There was a deep frown set on his face and his blue eyes were narrowed in serious fashion.

"Who else am I goin' to trust, Daryl? We aren't exactly surrounded by people."

"You know what I mean. I don't think you're weak. So if that's what you're thinkin' you need to stop...We'll go on a run tomorrow. We need to get some things." Daryl chastised meeting her eyes.

Beth looked away before nodding. He was letting her join him for once.

"What do we need?"

"Make a list. You're the one who wanted to go on a run so bad. Ain't you capable?"

Beth's thin blonde eyebrows moved to form a frown as she cut her eyes back over to Daryl.

He was smirking. That was the closest thing she'd seen to a smile from the man in a long while. Her brow line lifted and she offered a small grin.

"Yeah."

Beth turned to move back towards the RV when a harrowing thought occurred to her.

"Daryl?" Beth turned to the man to see that his attention was still fully on her.

"What?"

"Don't you think it's weird that we haven't seen any walkers in a week?"

Daryl frowned in contemplation. Damn right that was one of the thoughts that had been plaguing him...almost just as much as thinking about Beth had been.

Either the walkers were being killed by someone else or they were forming a herd. Neither of the two options were good for the couple.

The hunter had been careless in scouting the area for survivors, that much was true, and now he was kicking himself for it. He needed to keep this girl safe.

Being the last man standing did not factor in with his immediate plans.

* * *

Author's Note: Hello everyone. Forgive me for the tardiness! I'm super busy with fulfilling the degree requirements for two different bachelor degree programs at my university so I find it extremely difficult to find time to write.

This chapter was written before the premiere but I wish I'd gotten it online sooner!

Tell me what you think in review about this chapter AND the new season!


	5. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead

Chapter 4

"What we need all this shit for?"

Beth looked over at Daryl, annoyed. He'd been ragging on each and every thing that she had picked up to place in the duffle bag that they'd found. It was stretched to capacity and bulging in every which direction.

They were standing in a small corner store that the hunter had managed to find on his last run. He wasn't able to carry all that he'd seen during that initial run so four hands were better than two this time around.

There were plenty of vehicles around but they either lacked keys or had been sitting idle for too long.

"I don't want us just survivin' in the RV, Daryl. I want it to be home," Beth spoke fiercely, her annoyance on her sleeve, "That's just somethin' we have to hold on to."

He watched as she turned away to scour the store for more luxury items leaving Daryl to scoff at her words.

Daryl walked quietly towards the open door of the store they were filtering through, his hands reaching for the smokes in his back pocket that he had found beneath the counter.

He was cranky; her words from the day before regarding the lack of walkers had been weighing heavily on his mind. Lowering his crossbow and his bag that was stocked with cans and other necessities, he lit up a cigarette and leaned against the door jam before inhaling deeply. It had been a while.

The archer's narrow eyes scanned the open lot in front of him for any disturbances. Everything was too quiet. That was a problem.

There was definitely something up. He had only dropped one walker as they made their way to that little store. Someone was picking them off or someone was rounding them up.

"Those'll kill you, ya' know," he heard Beth utter quietly from behind him.

He nearly jumped at her sudden appearance. During his time alone with her he had realized that she was as quiet as a mouse and often surprised him by sneaking up on him.

Daryl rolled his eyes and turned towards the blonde girl before blowing a puff of smoke in her direction. Beth grimaced, her long nose crinkling at the odor.

"You're an ass."

"Yeah, well...You done bein' Ms. Suzy Homemaker?" Daryl questioned as he pushed the cigarette against the opposite wall to kill the light. He placed the remainder of the stick back into the crumpled box.

Beth shrugged before walking forward with only her can-laden, heavy rucksack on her back. Daryl quirked an eyebrow.

"Where's your other stuff?"

"Don't need it."

Daryl looked over at Beth to see a pensive expression and something else too, on her face. This girl. For such a stubborn hardass, she could be incredibly sensitive. Daryl sighed before turning to go get the duffle bag.

"Daryl...?"

Beth's whispered voice stopped him and he looked at her. She was focused on something straight ahead, her hand gripping her knife's handle tightly. He followed her eyes. There were three dark shapes in the distance. Daryl grabbed his pack and crossbow, his senses alert. Those weren't walkers.

"Beth, back up slowly. Don't move too fast. We'll leave through the back," Daryl spoke, his eyes still on the grey blobs in the distance. Hopefully he and Beth blended with this building well enough that they weren't spotted.

Daryl's voice was full of authority and experience instead of his normal gruffness and it made the hairs on Beth's arm stand on end.

Beth inched back until she was completely inside. She turned her large blue eyes on Daryl who had his own eyes narrowed towards the approaching figures.

"Straight back, girl. They ain't seen us yet." Daryl watched the blobs from his position at the doorway as he listened for Beth to pull the back door open.

"Daryl, let's go," Beth called out quietly.

The hunter, after seeing that the grey shapes gave no indication that they'd noticed the two, backed up and turned, grabbing the overly full duffle bag in the process, before exiting the building quickly at Beth's heels.

The woods were quiet other than the couple's quick steps over the cold, dry leaves. They didn't speak as they sprinted further into the woods to put distance between themselves and the store.

The hunter kept himself a few paces behind Beth as they jogged, his eyes on that dirty blonde ponytail that was swishing to and fro.

Just minutes later, Beth was seated on a log, catching her breath, while Daryl scoped the area to make sure that they weren't followed. He stood still, silent as ever, with his trained eyes darting this way and that to determine if something was amiss.

"Who do you think they were?" Beth questioned.

Daryl didn't respond for about thirty seconds before scoffing and turning his eyes onto Beth. She was reaching down her boot to massage her ankle that had pretty much healed but still ailed her.

"Don't know. Didn't want to stick around to find out. You good?"

Beth nodded.

"Figures though. I bring you with me and things like that happen."

Daryl tossed the duffle bag at her feet.

"You're carryin' that," he muttered. Never mind her sore ankle.

Beth looked towards the bag, shocked that he'd grabbed it in the first place.

"C'mon, we have to get back and pack up."

Panic.

"Wait, no! Why do we need to leave?! That place is thirty miles away from the RV! These people probably won't even go in our direction," Beth exclaimed fiercely as she jumped up from the log to face the older man.

Daryl regarded Beth with an expression of stoicism. He kind of liked getting her worked up and considered not answering her. Here ankle was hurting that bad.

"We ain't leavin' unless they show up. I want to make sure we have our shit straight if they do," he spoke gruffly.

Beth kept herself from releasing a sigh of relief as the man in front of her rolled his eyes, but she didn't stop the small grin from appearing on her face. She liked their home.

The couple trudged through the thick overgrowth that looked as if no human nor walker had touched it in years as they made their way back to the overgrown trailer park.

Beth pushed forward, her bags heavy, before sinking onto the steps of their RV, the bags sliding down her arms. She could feel the cold sweat running down her spine from the physical exertion of walking twenty or so miles at a fast pace. Especially with so much weight on her shoulders.

Daryl hadn't offered any help to her and she hadn't asked him for any. She watched as he set his bag down close to her feet before moving towards the side panels of their RV.

"What are you doing?"

Daryl turned his head and shot an annoyed look towards the blonde before responding.

"Makin' sure things are right," Daryl said as he kneeled down to inspect the ground in front of one of the side panels. Satisfied that he saw no footsteps other than his own or Beth's near the RV, he stood up and looked towards the young woman again noting the inquisitive glare on her face. He wanted to laugh.

"Come here," Daryl mumbled jerking his head towards the panel he stood in front of. He pulled open the panel door as Beth stood up.

Pushing all thoughts of her aching feet and back to the back of her mind she peered into the open panel.

"This is where I've been keepin' the extra ammo and bolts. I got some cans and stuff in here too," Daryl explained as he went back towards the steps to grab his bag. He pulled out a several cans and pushed them into the panel to join the stock that was already there.

Beth was quiet. He looked over at her to see that her face was tense, blue-grey eyes framed by a frown. He nearly backed up, away from her, when those large eyes flashed to meet his own.

"Why're you showin' me this?" Beth's voice had wavered.

"If somethin' happens, you grab what you can and you—," Daryl was unable to finish his explanation and he flinched as Beth pushed up on the open panel door to slam it shut.

"What are you talkin' about? You plannin' on leavin?" Beth's voice was small, yet bold.

"Nah, don't be dumb," Daryl responded almost immediately. They stood there awkwardly, Daryl chewing on his lip and Beth caught up by her anxious thoughts.

The two were silent for a beat before Beth finally cleared her throat, "Alright."

"You gotta be prepared if things go south. That's why I'm showin' you this."

Beth offered a slight nod before moving toward the steps. Daryl watched in silence as the blonde woman stooped down to collect their pillaged supplies.

"I'm goin' inside. Redneck brunch for dinner?"

And they were good.

* * *

AN:

Don't throw any tomatoes. I've actually had this written MONTHS ago but the MSF of Season 5 DESTROYED me. I'm definitely on Team Delusional though. So many theories floating around on Tumblr. And the best thing is that most seem to be reasonable theories. I'm staying strong guys.

Also! I see that I have a decent amount of followers for which I'm deeply appreciative! Please review guys! It really motivates me!


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I am but a fan...

Chapter 5

Two months had gone by since their near run-in at the small country store.

The sky was black and sprinkled with stars. Everything had been quiet all day so the two had worked diligently on getting a small garden set up behind the RV. On his last solo run, Daryl had found some seed packets and with it being close to the end of spring, it was about time to plant some vegetables if they were going to be staying there. Beth had beamed brightly at the man when he had brought those seed packets back.

They'd gotten a lot done in a day, so after a meal of rabbit stew, they had decided to rest. Or rather, they were trying to rest.

Beth was tossing and turning at nearly every sound that was made outside of their home. It was remarkable that she could even hear all of the noises that were being made with all of the moving that she had been doing before the nighttime sounds had reached their peak. The most persistent sound was that of a cricket that just would _not_ shut up.

_Chirrrp. Chirrrp._

The cricket would stop its song lending Beth some semblance of relief before it would start back up again leaving the woman to huff in annoyance.

Daryl had grown amused, as he often was when Beth was annoyed about something. _Chirrrp_. _Chirrrrp._

"Are you laughin' down there?"

He was still sleeping in the same room. Couldn't bring himself to leave her in there alone. The two had gotten closer over the past few months but definitely not close enough for them to share the bed. He reminded himself of this each time he walked in to find her passed out beneath the checkerboard blanket that they'd found.

It would be so easy. It would feel so right for him to just sink down onto the old springy mattress and curl into her warmth. It would also feel wrong.

_Chirrrp._ _Chirrrrp._

"Nah, girl. Go to sleep," he spoke gruffly with humor-filled undertones.

"This isn't funny, Daryl. I want that cricket dead." He could hear the exhaustion in her voice.

_Chirrp. Chirrrp. Chirrrp. Chirrrrp._

She sat up angrily, throwing the covers off of her.

"You goin' to go shoot it?"

Beth grabbed her pillow and threw it towards the man's stretched out form on the floor.

"Your cricket ain't down here," Daryl chuckled. He pulled the pillow off of his chest and pushed it beneath his head, to join his. Her scent was on the pillow. Light and clean, it seemed to rush over him, enveloping him with the warmth and comfort that was uniquely Beth.

Beth slid down off of the bed, her small body sitting next to where his head lay. What was she doing?

"I want that back," she uttered softly, reaching over to gently tug on it. Daryl had stiffened and he turned his head to look at her, only able to see that she was turned towards him as well. For how dark it was outside, it was almost darker in the RV with the only light being that of a small battery operated tea light that Beth had clicked on before laying down for rest.

It didn't really provide them with _any_ light but she knew that and the man had guessed that it was an object of comfort for the girl.

Daryl lifted his head off of the pillow…her pillow… so that she was able to pull it free. He thought that she was going to just grab the pillow and get back into her bed to toss and turn some more. Instead she scooted forward and put the pillow behind her before lying down beside him.

_What was she doing?_

"The cricket stopped," she muttered sleepily, "Is this okay?"

_No. _

"Yeah. Go to sleep, girl," Daryl whispered back, his heart thumping a mile a minute. She was finally comfortable, and her breathing was evening out. He could feel her breath ghosting over his cheek. She was close.

Yes, the cricket had stopped.

The next morning wasn't as awkward as Daryl had imagined it would be. Beth was still sleeping when he'd gotten up, as usual, so he just went to handle his morning business and to check the perimeter.

When she woke up, they went for the woods.

The boot tracks were deep. Like someone was walking around with a lot of weight on them. _Or _they were walking around and purposely digging their heels into the ground. Beth nearly scoffed. Daryl had been teaching her how to track but his clues on this day were incredibly juvenile and obvious. She was getting bored. It had been an hour and a half since she had started her hunt for him and the clues were offering her no sense of a challenge.

She followed the deep footprints further into the dense brush of the woods before she started to notice that something was off. She furrowed her brow and glanced around for Daryl's boot print. There were at least three different types of shoe prints in addition to Daryl's. They indicated that there was some sort of a struggle and Beth was immediately alarmed.

"No…" she whispered aloud, her blue-grey eyes darting this way and that to discern what had happened. Did walkers get to him? Was he hurt by other people? How did he let someone get that close to him?

She was starting to panic. He couldn't do this to her. He couldn't leave her. He told her that he wouldn't.

The ground was spinning and she kneeled down. Her breathing was getting out of control. What the hell was going on? This was just supposed to be a casual training exercise. This wasn't supposed to happen.

She was starting to hyperventilate when she heard the ground crunching behind her. She stood up quickly and turned around, her knife up and ready to swing, eyes wide and angry. And then tears were running down her face.

Daryl was standing there, a sincere look of concern apparent on his own dirty face.

He brought himself forward calmly and he slowly reached up with both of his hands to get her knife from her tightly clutched fist.

"Beth?" he questioned dipping his head down to look up into her eyes. She didn't respond.

"Hey, Beth? What's wrong, girl? What happened?"

Daryl's hand still touched her own. He could feel the trembling start.

"I thought that somethin' had gotten you. I thought you were gone," Beth spoke finally, her eyes still glossy with tears. This girl was crying for him?

"What? Why you think that?"

Beth stared down at the ground and he followed her gaze, noticing his boot print atop other old footprints.

"You told me you wouldn't leave…"

Daryl nearly let out a laugh at her misinterpretation of the tracks before he realized just how serious things were.

"I wasn't lyin' to you, you hear me? I ain't leavin' you, girl. Come here."

Daryl pulled Beth towards the tracks that had the crying.

"These other tracks are old. I stepped here so that you could try 'n figure out which ones are fresh and which ones are old," the hunter explained.

Beth let out a wet laugh at just how stupid she was to jump straight to the conclusion that something bad had happened. Now that he was showing her, she could see just how different the older tracks were compared to the new ones.

"You good?" Daryl questioned releasing her hand, his eyes narrowed with concern.

Beth pushed herself forward into Daryl's chest so that her wet face was nearly smothered by his plaid shirt and leather vest. Daryl stiffened, as she expected, and placed his hands at her elbows; his grip tight but not strong. He just couldn't keep his hands off of her.

"I can't believe that I freaked out like that," Beth mumbled into his shirt.

"Yeah, well, maybe it was 'cause of that cricket. Got your mind all weird today."

Beth snickered at the man's attempt at humor before pulling away from him. She held her hand out for her knife and tucked it into its sheath when he handed it over to her.

"Maybe. So does this mean that I failed today's lesson, Mr. Dixon?"

There was a twinge of endearment, as there always was, when she used that nickname. He couldn't have been imagining it every time. He was warming up to it.

"Nah. You did pretty good 'til you got here," Daryl spoke shrugging his shoulders and looking around the area.

"Bullshit. You made those tracks super easy for me to follow," Beth accused.

Daryl shook his head and started moving back towards their trailer park. No, he hadn't made the day's lesson any easier for her. He was actually quite impressed that she had made it as far as she had as quickly as she did. The only reason that he had gone back to check on her was because she hadn't caught up to him yet. At the rate that she was tracking, she should have caught up to him.

"Maybe you're just gettin' better. You think about that?"

* * *

Author's Note: Sweet. An update. I tried to get some awkward moments in here. I hope that things weren't too ooc. Let me know in a review what you guys thought!

Yes, to answer a question from one of my reviewers, I do feel like Daryl's is super closed off and perhaps a bit reckless or something...but basically...just lost. And it breaks my heart. Ugh.


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